


waiting for your touch

by dongyoung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 'if i was a worm would you still love me' but more morbid and securely in love, Established Relationship, M/M, nothing happens, talking about death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dongyoung/pseuds/dongyoung
Summary: Kun's trying to shake out a memory like a polaroid. Jaehyun has a handle on it.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Qian Kun
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	waiting for your touch

Sometimes a thought comes back, out of the blue when folding laundry, six, seven years later. Or in the middle of making a smoothie that’ll freeze later, to keep for the coming week. Sometimes, it’s a memory. A feeling.

Kun’s in the kitchen, wash up duty because it’d been Jaehyun’s turn to cook dinner today. It presents itself out of nowhere - a dimmish picture, exposure set really low, the room dark, a man well into his sixties lying on the mattress on the floor, fast asleep, and the curtains almost drawn shut. Kun turns the tap off and sinks some of his weight against the sink, blinking at the drain. He remembers thinking, standing steps away from the doorframe, _I don’t want you to die in a dark room._ Remembers going back to the other side of the apartment, thinking if it would be worse to die, eyes wide open, in a room with the light on, or die, eyes closed, in a room where the sunlight’s still pouring, or eyes open in the dark, or eyes closed in the dark, and then whoever turns on the light has to see —

Kun chews his lower lip and turns the tap on, again. One more plate to go.

“Kun?” Jaehyun calls, from the bedroom, and Kun suddenly really wants the lights to be on. Everywhere. The apartment, the building, the city. It’s stupid. It’s really fucking stupid.

“Hey,” Kun calls back, and the plate’s wiped and on the stand, and he turns the tap off again.

Jaehyun’s padding over into the living room now, his dark blue fuzzy socks on. Well, it’s November. Kun’s going to start wearing his own pair in a few weeks, maybe. He likes the cold a bit more. Sometimes it’s not the best thing, though. Not when the wind starts howling like a real person. But it’s November. They’ve got until January when that gets back to happening.

“Miss you,” Jaehyun says, standing in front of the sofa, a maximum of eighteen steps away from Kun, if either of them decide to _shuffle_ over with really tiny steps. Kun takes him in, all one hundred and eighty centimeters of him, in accidentally-washer-shrunk pajamas that barely reach his ankles, and the collared pajama top that they lost the bottoms to last year.

“You’d look cute with that horrible night cap octogenarians wear in children’s movies,” Kun tells him, and goes to him with his arms up, and Jaehyun gives him an unphased laugh and hugs him back.

“I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about,” Jaehyun says. “I shall take it in stride as a compliment.”

“Of course,” Kun says, quietly, walking them backwards. It makes Jaehyun laugh a little more, under his breath. “Anything other than a compliment to you wouldn’t sit well with either of us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jaehyun whispers, smiling, lips brushing Kun’s ear, and Kun’s shoulders go up, a little bashful, a lot pleased.

“I don’t know,” Kun confesses. “Why are we talking like we’ll wake someone up?”

“You started it,” Jaehyun tells him, and they’ve reached the bedroom, and when the back of Jaehyun’s thighs hit the bed, he goes down with more dignity than grace. His eyes are twinkling in the lamplight, the pajama top riding up his stomach a little.

Kun’s still standing, looking down at him. Jaehyun continues smiling up, a smaller thing now, his dimples not there.

“Guess I did,” Kun says, though it’s not too important to carry on the conversation; it’s just— “I love you,” Kun says. “You know that, right?” And it’s silly, of course they both know, they’ve said it plenty of times before. But it’s getting a little colder in the year, and Kun’s trying to get that doorframe and the dull non-image of his father, fast asleep, out of his head.

“C’mere,” Jaehyun says, and it’s his turn to put his arms up. Kun goes down with no dignity or grace, just stuffs his face partly into the hypoallergenic sheets and partly into Jaehyun’s soft cotton shoulder. Jaehyun’s arms cross over his back and squeeze. “Love you too, okay?”

“Mmm.”

The wind outside isn’t howling, but it’s getting loud, and Jaehyun quietly gets them under the quilts. Kun turns to face him. He’s very glad they invested in all the pillows. It’s very, very floaty and comfortable right now. Like floating on a cloud of Jaehyun and what a bed would be if it were Jaehyun’s essence solidified. Reassuring, warm. “I’m _really_ in love with you, actually,” Kun says, eyes falling shut. Laughs a bit in slight embarrassment and relief when Jaehyun laughs, too.

“Good to know i’ve still got it,” Jaehyun mumbles, and with the shifting in weight next to his shoulder, Kun knows Jaehyun’s propping himself up on an elbow. Kun opens his eyes, and sure enough, there Jaehyun is. Up on an elbow, looking at Kun with a gravity, with the emotion on his face almost tangible, like it could speak itself into physicality. Then the edge of his mouth quirks up, far enough for a dimple to pop up. Kun prepares himself. “For the distinguished, singular, honored and notable Qian Kun.” 

“Worst,” Kun says, getting closer, making no move to click the lamp off. Maybe this is how it would be best. With them together. The room not lit or dark. Just, them, together.

Jaehyun draws an arm around his shoulders. “Absolutely.” Half a minute goes by in affable silence. Then, “Anything on your mind? Feels like there’s a bunch of cogs working up here.” He pats the back of Kun’s head, and Kun wants to sink until he’s back against Jaehyun’s chest. Maybe he’ll melt into the bedsheets and turn into a friendly organic lump.

“If it was gonna be us,” Kun starts, because it’s been long enough with Jaehyun for both of them to know it’s better if he just starts. Gets the words out. Does some talking. Jaehyun’s not going to laugh, not going to split. Talking's just talking. “If we were going to…” Kun looks up at him. Jaehyun looks back. “If we’re going to go. And, let’s say. We’re not gonna see each other again forever in other lives, plural. This is the last one. Next up,” Kun lets himself take another breath, then attempts a grin. “Next up, your Paradise. How’d you want it?”

Jaehyun tugs him closer, so Kun doesn’t have to see his face if Kun just looks straight ahead. But Kun wants to see his face. This face, this Jaehyun, he’s been trying his best to deserve to look at first thing in the morning. Right now, he wants to see Jaehyun’s steady nose, the eyebrows, the soft swell of his cheekbones. Kun doesn’t look straight ahead, he looks at Jaehyun.

“With you,” Jaehyun says, quietly, not a question in it. “Too much of a coward, sorry, baby, I want you there.”

“Before?” Kun asks, not knowing why he’s suddenly getting like this. Maybe he does know. The wind is getting louder. The room really had been too dark. And it’s not very logical, his father’s still alive, even now. It’s just the thought he’d had. “The exact second? After?” The way it had struck him like the side of a practised hand to a windpipe. A dark room. A loneliness that he seems to carry with him no matter where he is.

Jaehyun takes a breath, and Kun can feel it against his chin. Kun looks up again. Jaehyun’s looking back, and this time there’s not just gravity, but a heaviness, a weight that settles on Kun. Warmth in it. Smoke. A spark from the corner of the corridor where Kun’s standing, a little angry, a little demanding. The room’s swimming in front of him, pixels and quantum packs.

“After,” Jaehyun speaks, sounding resolved. “I’d die… hmm.” And Kun doesn’t know how he’s managing _playful_ now. Even though they’re both being real right now. “Twelve seconds after. So I could miss you. So when I meet you it would have been after missing you and I could hold you closer.” Room swimming and dimming and fading, exposure going up so high it’s slowly just getting all bleached.

“It’s, like, Paradise, here. You’d already be holding me the closest way Paradiscally possible.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun says, pushing himself further so his nose buries in Kun’s hair. Kun can feel Jaehyun’s smile against his forehead. “It’s paradise. I’ll just sink into your skin and be you until I feel less sad, and then I’ll come out again.” Room not a room anymore, just a picture, a polaroid that’s a gimmick, complete overexposure.

“Sadness of any level isn’t possible, Jaehyun,” Kun whispers, and he shifts, too, so their legs tangle. “I think you’re forgetting the premise again.”

“What, happiness only in heaven? Sure, only once I’m done missing you,” Jaehyun lifts an arm from around Kun’s shoulders, lets his forefinger trace its way from Kun’s hairline, down his nose, and presses down into Kun’s own smile, tapping against his teeth. “And I’ve been you and then I come out and I hug you _again_. That’s when happiness starts. Gonna be a full time job. Love what you do. Etcetera.”

Kun purses his lips and kisses his finger.

“Twelve seconds?”

“Fifteen’s too long.”

**Author's Note:**

> JEEEEEZ i am Shaking it's been ages since i did this kind of thing. posting this rn with absolute fear. if u read this far thank u so much omg i appreciate u.
> 
> also i couldn't think of a title so i got one from whatever [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5ihqUvh9og) was playing at the time


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